


Closer

by ChillieBean



Series: GERF Collection [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, Mild Language, Multi, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:22:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22240000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: In a world at war, it's the little things that bring you closer to the ones you love.
Relationships: Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Genji Shimada
Series: GERF Collection [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590361
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	1. A Car Crash in Slow Motion

**Author's Note:**

> For bloomingcnidarians
> 
> This one is a bit different, I was given four Genciotiste prompts and the option to write what I wanted. Well, the world needs more Genciotiste and the prompts were too delicious *not* to write. They're all in the same universe, with the same characters, with a loosely tied story but they're there!
> 
> The prompts:  
> -Baptiste is a bad dancer  
> -Movie night ft. cuddling & snarky commentary on movie quality  
> -Dealing with Genji & Baps nightmares  
> -Cooking but Genji's a shitty cook 
> 
> Thank you so much for your donation!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Baptiste's a bad dancer.

Genji cringes at the sight before him.

It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion—it is a disaster but he can’t look away. 

Second-hand embarrassment washes over him like a dirty seaweed-ridden wave. A part of him wishes the ground would swallow him whole. 

Baptiste’s dancing is bad. Just— _awful._ It wouldn’t matter so much if there was a dancefloor full of people, where Baptiste could blend in and his actions blamed on being very much inebriated. But such as it is, he’s alone out there. 

_And_ he’s dancing in front of people Genji considers family. Sure, everyone knows that after the Rio mission he hooked up with not only Lúcio but Baptiste, and it’s something he hasn’t been ashamed of in the slightest. They’ve seen him sloppily make out with both of them, he’s openly spoken about how much he loves Lúcio’s ass, or Baptiste’s arms, to anyone who’ll listen. Then there’s the time Reinhardt accidentally walked in on him on his knees while Baptiste’s pants were around his ankles.

 _That_ didn’t bother him.

But _this_ does. 

How, _how_ can someone look so _stiff_ while dancing? It’s just infeasible. 

Genji glances at Lúcio beside him, his eyes are wide, his mouth agape. At least Lúcio is on the same page as him. 

Eyeing the remainder of his beer, Genji downs the lot, then reaches for the bottle of whiskey on the table and pours that into his glass. He’s going to need a lot more alcohol to make it through the night, but this is a start. 

“I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen anyone so wooden,” Lúcio murmurs from beside him.

“I know,” Genji groans. He watches Baptiste as he raises his arms above his head, his hands point outwards… and he holds it. For _more_ than a few seconds. “Holy shit.”

“What even is that? The praying mantis?”

“He looks like a lamp.” 

Lúcio glances at him and bursts into laughter. Genji cannot help but smile, he hasn’t seen Lúcio laugh this hard before. He doubles over on himself, he can barely keep his balance despite sitting, so he leans on Genji. 

Wrapping an arm around Lúcio’s shoulders, Genji glances around the room when he hears cheering. Baptiste has an audience now, and he does this weird stamping and fist-pumping motion which gets him another cheer. He tries to wave them on the dancefloor, each and every one of them, and is met with waved hands and shakes of the head. 

Baptise makes eye contact with them, then, and Genji gives Lúcio’s shoulders a shake. Lúcio looks up and nods, standing and pulling Genji up with him. 

“Come on,” Lúcio says with a sigh. “We gotta save him. Our reputation is on the line.”

“Absolutely,” Genji says, following behind. Baptiste welcomes them with open arms, pulling them in a tight embrace. Genji can smell the sweat and aftershave clinging to Baptiste’s shirt and all but melts. This is what he smells like after they’ve had a round in bed. 

“I knew it wouldn’t take long for you to join me,” Baptiste says. 

“When you said that you weren’t a good dancer,” Lúcio says, looking up, “we thought that you meant you were charmingly awkward. Not whatever the hell _that_ was.”

Baptiste scoffs. “‘I’ll have you know that my sick dance moves have made me a _very_ lucky man.”

“I’m sure they pitied you,” Genji says, stepping back when Baptiste relinquishes his grip. “Anyway, we will teach you how to dance.”

“I _know_ how to dance,” Baptiste says, swaying his hips. 

Genji watches on, impressed. “Not bad,” he says, matching Baptiste. “But go a little wider, a little rounder, like this. In time with the music.”

Baptiste smiles, getting into the rhythm. He wasn’t wrong, he _can_ dance. Cheers erupt again, and Genji starts to wonder if the earlier _theatrics_ were merely a show to get him and Lúcio in on the dancefloor with him.

“How does that feel?” Genji asks when the track changes, adjusting his rhythm. 

“Good!” 

“You look like you’re having much more fun,” Lúcio adds. “Though I gotta ask, what the hell is this?” He mimics Baptiste’s earlier lamp move, and Baptiste laughs.

“Did it look _that_ bad?”

Genji cringes and nods. “Probably worse.”

“It’s the alcohol,” Baptiste says with the wave of his hand. “I’m in this zone where my dancing turns to shit, or so I’ve been told.” He closes his eyes and hums as he moves his arms in a slow, flapping motion. 

“ _Please_ ,” Lúcio groans, “Baptiste, I love you, but you gotta stop that.”

Baptiste opens his eyes, smiling broadly. “I love you too,” he says, then he turns to Genji. “And I love you too.”

Genji feels a little stutter of his heart. They haven’t admitted that they love each other yet. He’s sure, for the most part, it’s just the alcohol talking, but still, he can’t help but let himself be enveloped by that little bloom of warmth. 

The feeling is completely mutual; he’s been thinking it for a couple of weeks now. He'd woken up first because the sun was shining right on his face. Lúcio and Baptiste were asleep still, but he couldn’t help but stare at them bathed in morning light. They were gorgeous, and Genji had never felt his heart as full as that moment. 

Genji glances at Lúcio, he looks like someone who said the words without thinking them. But it _doesn’t_ matter, the words _are_ out there, and drunk or not, Genji _loves_ the way it makes him feel. 

“I love you too,” Genji says to Baptiste, then turns his attention to Lúcio. “And I love you.”

Lúcio looks up at him, his smile looks like the sun shining through the clouds. He reaches for Genji’s hand, Genji takes it, and before he knows what’s happening, he’s pulled into a kiss. He melts into it after a moment, the sounds of louder cheers and clapping fade into white noise. 

He moans softly when he feels Lúcio grind against him, it’s small, subtle, could probably be excused for dancing considering they are swaying, but it was absolutely intentional, and it absolutely has him wanting nothing more than to lead him out of this room and into the nearest empty one. 

The kiss recedes and Lúcio pulls away, smiling softly. The sound of the room comes back in a rush, he swipes his thumb across Lúcio’s cheek before taking a step back and looking at Baptiste. He’s positively grinning, he’s still swaying, he’s got his arms up by his side as he does this adorable yet somewhat concerning wiggle.

Then, Genji’s world crashes in around him as Baptiste points _finger guns_ at him. “I love you!”

And it gets _worse_ when he _flips_ the finger guns _upside down_ and points them at Lúcio. “And I love you!”

Lúcio _laughs_ , that adorable laugh from earlier, and Genji rolls his eyes as affectionately as he can manage. These are his boyfriends, his embarrassing, gorgeous, boyfriends, and he would not trade them for the world. 

“I love you too,” Genji says, grabbing Baptiste by his collar and pulling him into a kiss. “I love you too.”


	2. A Shark Tornado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Movie night ft. cuddling & snarky commentary on movie quality.

“Sharknado!”

“Shark-what?!”

Genji positively grins at Lúcio’s utterly confused face. Baptiste is too busy guzzling popcorn by the handful to say anything. It’s _supposed_ to last until the movie starts at the very least. 

“A shark tornado,” Genji says, selecting the movie on the tablet, it plays on the holoscreen. “Sharknado.”

“Okay, that’s wholly _not_ possible.”

“Suspend some disbelief,” Baptiste says from the bed, mouth crammed full of popcorn. 

“Exactly,” Genji says, lifting the blanket and sitting beside Baptiste. He grabs a handful of popcorn and munches it down. 

Baptiste pats the bed on his other side. “Turn off your brain and enjoy the movie.” He lifts the blanket. “Cuddle with us.”

Lúcio huffs, dropping onto the bed beside Baptiste. 

Despite his protests, Lúcio is amazingly silent, aside from the odd huff or sigh or _tsk_. Genji knew this movie would be atrocious the moment he saw its ludicrous title, but nothing could have prepared him for just how bad the acting is, or how truly _awful_ the special effects are. But one thing it has going for it, it’s that Genji _cannot_ look away.

It’s so bad, it’s good. 

“This violence is utterly gratuitous and unnecessary,” Lúcio mutters. 

“They’re sharks,” Baptiste says. “They're gonna hunt, even out of the water. Food is food.”

“But c’mon, aren’t the sharks suffering enough?”

“Lúc,” Genji says. “It’s just a shitty movie.”

Lúcio groans, rolling his eyes. “One you’re _making_ me watch.” 

Genji cannot help but smile. Lúcio probably thinks he’s being serious, but Genji can see that little upwards curve of his lips. He’s _possibly_ enjoying it. “Would you rather be doing something else than spending time with your boyfriends?”

“He’s got a point,” Baptiste says, looking at Lúcio. He places the empty bowl on the nightstand and lifts his arm, and Lúcio snuggles in closer. 

“You’re lucky that this is nice,” Lúcio grumbles. 

Genji looks up at Baptiste, and with a wink, Baptiste lifts his arm. Genji curls up to him, resting his head on his shoulder. This _is_ nice. From under the blanket, Genji searches for Lúcio’s hand and holds it. Lúcio glances at him and smiles. 

“This is a pretty bad movie,” Genji concedes. 

“ _Thank you!_ ” 

“Like, there’s _bad_ , and then there’s _this._ ” Genji chuckles. “I mean, what is it? A disaster movie? A horror movie?”

“A shark movie,” Baptiste says. “That’s all it is. Shark movies were huge back then. This is another, and it tries to think it’s good by coming up with this ridiculous plot, but it really, _really_ isn’t.” 

“Then why are we still watching it?” Lúcio asks.

“We’ve come this far,” Genji replies. “Besides, there’s supposed to be a massive chainsaw finale and I want to cash in on that.”

“You know what’s most entertaining?” Baptiste says. “The use of sharks as plot devices. Like the girl who got eaten by one after falling out of the chopper. She could’ve fallen to her death but _no_ , another shark just so happens to be there to eat her.”

Genji grins. “Ah, my dear Baptiste, you do not know that age-old movie rule: if we don’t see the body then they are not dead.”

Baptiste raises an eyebrow. “She got eaten by a shark. She’s dead.”

“And I’m no expert on sharks,” Lúcio says, “but I’m mostly certain they need water to survive.”

Baptiste barks a laugh. “Exactly. Can you imagine the person who pitched this idea? What the _hell_ did they have over the studio’s heads for them to _agree_ to this?”

“As bad as it is,” Genji says, “it has a cult following. For a cable TV movie, that’s all that was needed. I found an article that all the movies in the Sharknado series made almost one billion dollars so not exactly a flop.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lúcio says, eyes wide as he sits forward. “It made _that_ much money?”

“Yup.”

“Fuck.” Lúcio shakes his head. “I’m just… Wow.”

“Well, between the six movies—”

“ _Six?!_ ”

“Six.”

“The world was in a much different place at the start of the century,” Baptiste says. “The consumption of media was off the charts, and people binged TV. For example, take this idea of a shark tornado. As bad as it is, it’s a novel idea. It was something that was never done before, and its ridiculousness is what sells it. Sure, the acting is bad, and the sharks almost look like plastic toys flying around on strings, but nothing before then had been done like it.”

Lúcio scoffs. “And then they decided to make _five more_.” 

“They found their audience,” Genji says with a shrug. 

The movie plays out, and he all but claps when the guy picks up the chainsaw. He utterly _melts_ the first shark as it hurdles towards him like it’s made of butter, he doesn’t even react to its mass. It would be fine if it _looked_ cool but it absolutely _didn’t_. 

Baptiste was right about the shark’s impeccable aim, as another shark bears down and _eats_ chainsaw guy _whole_. Of course, he manages to cut himself out, and _of course,_ as he reaches into the carcass, it’s the same shark that ate the girl from earlier. 

“Ha! Told you she wasn’t dead!”

“This movie,” Lúcio groans. “I just—I just can’t.”

“Yeah,” Baptiste says, “I’m with Lúcio. This is awful.”

Genji smirks slyly, picking up the tablet. “So I _shouldn’t_ queue up the second one?”

“No,” they both say in unison.

“Aww, no fair,” Genji says, pouting. 

“How about,” Baptiste says, voice low and husky. Just _hearing_ it has heat pooling in Genji’s core. “ _You_ watch the movie while Lúcio and I find _another_ way to keep ourselves entertained.” He then cups Lúcio’s face, kisses him with an absolute burning desire, a spark of jealousy shoots through Genji. 

Lúcio hums when they separate, he’s got that fire burning behind his eyes. “Yeah, I can get down with that.” He takes off his shirt, tossing it away, before reaching for Baptiste’s and helping him out of it. “That way, everyone wins.”

“I don’t!” Genji scoffs. “I want in on that!” 

“Nope,” Baptiste says as he pushes Lúcio down onto the bed and lies on top of him. “You said you wanted to watch the movie. Now, go on!”

“No fair!”


	3. Tomorrow Can Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: dealing with Genji's and Baptiste's nightmares

Lúcio hates seeing Genji like this. 

Right now, he’s mumbling in his sleep, caught in a nightmare. Lúcio can’t understand much of the broken, rushed Japanese words aside from the occasional _stop_ and _hurt_ , basic words Lúcio has picked up in his time with Genji. 

That can only mean he is dreaming about two things—the night of his incident, or his recovery after. Lúcio honestly isn’t sure which of the two was more traumatic, only because thinking about one brings about intense hatred for the other. On his bad days, he gets caught in a feedback loop—phantom pain brings about memories of his life before the incident, which makes him think about his recovery, which makes him think about what his life _could_ have been, and round and round he goes until he either breaks down, or Lúcio can finally crack through and give him the comfort he needs.

But the problem with that is the distrust that follows. Lúcio has lost count of the number of times Genji has pushed him and Baptiste away, threatened to leave and not come back out of fear for his life. It happened once, with the brother whom he looked up to, and Genji is convinced it will happen again.

It’s those damned skeletons in his closet saying those things. Even now, after all his time with Zenyatta—forgiving himself, accepting that this is who he is, forgiving Hanzo—he has his bad days. He will probably continue having these bad days for the rest of his life, these events weren’t just blips in his life, they were mountains, almost impossible to descend. 

Bit if there is one thing for certain, Lúcio’s life would be empty if Genji wasn’t in it. He reminds Genji of that every time Genji enters one of his spirals; that he is loved, that both he and Baptiste will _never_ betray him. 

Lúcio tells Genji that his life gives him a purpose. 

Genji sits up with a shout, sweat-drenched hair clings to his forehead. His breaths are quick and shallow, his eyes dart around the room. This is the moment where Genji will take one of two paths—he’ll either start to self deprecate, or he will brush it off and it will fester for hours, days, weeks before it explodes. 

His eyes meet Lúcio’s, and Lúcio sits up. Genji reaches for his hand, holds it tight like he is using it like a lifeline. His eyes carry all of the hurt he’s feeling, they well with tears and spill down his cheeks. 

Lúcio’s heart all but breaks. “Genji,” he whispers, reaching out and pulling him into a hug. 

Genji sobs, and Lúcio holds him tight, stroking his hair, letting him work through this in his own time. It doesn’t matter that it’s three in the morning. It doesn’t matter that Baptiste is still asleep beside them. All that matters is that Genji knows he’s safe. 

As time passes, Genji calms, he takes deeper breaths as he relaxes in Lúcio’s arms. He buries his face in the crook of Lúcio’s neck, and this, right now, means he’s not going to storm off. Lúcio might be in for a rough few days as Genji processes this, but right now, that’s something not worth thinking about. 

“I thought I lost you,” Genji whispers.

“I’m right here,” Lúcio replies, holding him tighter. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“They took you away, tortured you to get back at me.”

Lúcio considers his options. The fact that Genji is talking is a good thing, but he could be about to step into a minefield. Ultimately, debriefing is what helps him the absolute most, and since he's already talking, he might as well continue.

“Who did?” Lúcio asks.

“Family.”

Lúcio’s eyes close, he cups the back of Genji’s head. Genji revealed once, not long after they hooked up, that he felt like he was at his happiest, the happiest he had been his entire life. But he quickly soured, saying that he’s being greedy looking for love from _two_ people, that one day it’ll turn to ash and he will lose everything all over again. 

After some gentle reassurances that both Lúcio and Baptiste were just as greedy, he brushed it off. He said that if anything _were_ to happen, that he should enjoy the rest of his time he has. 

That, though, that feeling of loss, of losing Genji or Baptiste, or _both_ … That stuck with Lúcio for a long time. 

“Your family can’t do anything to take us,” Lúcio says. He kisses Genji’s cheek, and when Genji pulls his head up, Lúcio cups his face. “We won’t let them. Not me, Baptiste, Hanzo, Angela, Winston… none of us.”

“I know,” Genji says. He smiles softly, almost barely there but it _is_ there, and Lúcio knows that Genji will be okay. “It was silly, but it felt so real. I could see you, I could _taste_ the iron in the air, see your blood on my hands…” Genji inhales and exhales deeply. “It wasn’t just you. It was Baptiste and Hanzo too. Everyone I love, all lined up, tied to chairs, void of life. Gone.”

“That must’ve been difficult.” 

Genji nods. His eyes meet Lúcio’s and he smiles, a little wider. “I did get in a couple of kills.”

“Only a couple?” Lúcio asks with a playful push. 

“Eleven, but then I was thrown off a crosswalk and woke up.”

“Impressive.”

“Should have been better.”

Lúcio smiles, sweeping Genji’s hair aside now that it’s not stuck with sweat. “I love you.”

“I love you—”

Baptiste sits up in a rush, hands grabbing at his neck. His breaths are heaving, gulping, _gasping,_ his eyes are wide, focused on the middle distance. 

“Hey,” Lúcio says, placing a gentle hand on Baptiste’s shoulder. His heart pounds in his chest. Lúcio has caught Baptiste suffering a nightmare only one time, but Lúcio knows that they’re a common occurrence. Before Lúcio realised what was causing it, there were days he was a little off, he was quieter, it took a little more effort to put a smile on his face. 

After the nightmare Lúcio caught, Baptiste didn’t really talk about it, he just brushed it off. But that day, he was that same distant person Lúcio had noticed previously and it all made sense. That night he entered another spell of insomnia.

After three sleepless days, they talked about it. Baptiste's nightmares are _intense_ if Lúcio had to put a word to them. He described them as this deep fear of being dragged back to Talon, tortured long and slow, left bleeding out for days before eventually dying in agony. He said that the only way out of Talon is in a body bag, and that’s exactly what they did. 

Baptiste isn’t really paranoid that they’ll come, he’s escaped them twice now, but the fear _is_ there, ever-present. Lúcio has seen it in the days following a nightmare—he insists on staying in rather than going out. If they’re on a mission, he’s more aware of his surroundings. 

Naturally, Lúcio filled Genji in, given most nights Genji sleeps like a log and misses the discussion. But in those moments of vulnerability, they shower Baptiste in love, in kisses and cuddles. He’s been a little more relaxed since then, even though he chooses not to talk about them when he has them. 

Baptiste finally looks at Lúcio, he stops clawing at his neck, his hands drop into his lap. “Fuck,” he murmurs, bringing his knees up to his chest. He rubs his neck again, Lúcio can see one scratch that has broken skin. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” Genji replies, holding out his hand. Baptiste takes it. “We were already awake. It seems our minds think alike.”

Baptiste huffs a laugh. “You too?”

Genji nods. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“I’d taken innocent lives, they were lined up and they forced me too..." He audibly swallows and shakes his head. "I refused to do the kids and that’s when those hands closed around my neck. I fought and thrashed, I reached the point where I lost consciousness, then woke up.”

“That’s intense,” Genji replies. 

“You’re telling me,” Baptiste says with a sigh. “What happened in yours?”

“They took you and Lúc and Hanzo. I searched and searched and when I found you, you were gone.”

“Genji,” Baptiste whispers. “I’m sorry.” Then he looks at Lúcio, cupping his face. “And I’m sorry that your boyfriends are fucked up and sync their nightmares.”

Lúcio rolls his eyes playfully. “Keeping me on my toes, I swear. I’ll be the first of the three of us to go grey, I’m telling you.”

“You’d look good grey.” Baptiste’s eyes flit to Genji and he smiles. “How are you? I know we don’t usually do this post-nightmare debrief, but since we’re all awake…”

“I’m fine. It’s not like the other ones.” He smiles weakly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” Baptiste replies. “Well I know I’m not going to get any more sleep, but I’d be totally down for cuddles.”

“Me too,” Genji replies. “Can I move into the middle? I want to be able to feel both of you, know that you’re both still here.”

With a nod, Lúcio moves aside and Genji takes his place. Baptiste rolls onto his side, attaches himself to Genji, and the second Lúcio is lying down, Genji pulls him in like an octopus, draping his arm over his chest and holding him tight. There’s a brief moment of shuffling from Baptiste, his arm appears above Genji’s, taking his hand and weaving their fingers together. Lúcio holds both of their hands in his own, relaxes, and closes his eyes. 

Lúcio is sure he will lie awake with them for the next few hours; he’s too amped up. If there is one positive, though, it’s the fact that both of them are here, in bed, and aren’t dealing with this on their own. It feels like progress. 

Despite it, though, he will be fully armed tomorrow with kisses and cuddles. He might just make them breakfast and serve it in bed if they’re up for it. They can spend the day in their quarters, ignoring the world around them.

He’d do anything for these two men if it means he could see their smiling faces. 

In the meantime, he will enjoy this moment, the feeling of Genji’s breaths caressing his shoulder, of holding both of their hands in his own. 

Right now, this is everything. 

Right now, tomorrow can wait.


	4. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dinner but Genji's a shitty cook

“Should… Should we help him? We _gotta_ help him.”

“Nope. You know he gets _weird_ if you go into his personal space.”

Baptiste frowns, glancing at Lúcio. “True, but he looks like he needs it.”

“It’s your funeral,” Lúcio says, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest. 

“I know.” Baptiste inhales and exhales deeply, watching Genji again. Today is their six month anniversary, and Genji wanted to make a three-course meal for them. _And_ , of course, he wants it to be a surprise. 

It’s a gorgeous gesture, one that Baptiste will forever hold in his heart, but if he is being fully, completely honest, Genji is _not_ a great cook. Both he and Lúcio had plenty of time to tell him, to mention it in passing, hell, to even offer to help tonight, but they didn’t, and now they’re here, wincing with every sharp clang of a pan and every muttered _fuck_ that carries from the kitchen. 

Genji, on a good day, can barely scrape together a grilled cheese without setting off the smoke alarms, delivering something that resembles charcoal. He tries, he really does, but with his lifestyle growing up, it was just something he didn’t take to. Why learn to cook when someone else cooks _for_ you?

Not that Baptiste is any better—he can burn water. He lived on cafeteria food or MREs or microwave meals for so long that the only thing he can really make reliably is toast. The difference between him and Genji is he knows when he needs help and asks for it. Genji, on the other hand, is stubborn, and turns down help _every time_. 

Genji looks in the thick of it now, though, as he consults a recipe while tending to the stove. Every possible free space is taken up with ingredients, flour has spilt onto the floor, he’s got a smear of an orange sauce across his forehead. He isn’t deterred though, not once has he looked like he’s wanted to throw in the towel. 

But he _is_ Genji, and there is every likelihood that dinner could be inedible. Baptiste hopes, at the very least, that Genji will pull a miracle out of that ridiculous chef’s hat he’s wearing. 

Between the three of them, Lúcio is the cook. He can look at a recipe once and go with it, adding in complementary herbs and spices as he goes, taking the dish to the next level. He’s got a knack for cooking, something that Baptiste and Genji shamelessly take full advantage of. Lúcio, though, he just adores it. 

Lúcio has tried, time and time again, to offer Genji help, to get Genji in the kitchen with him to assist so he can pick up a few pointers, but there’s only so much Lúcio can say without it coming across as instructional. That, and Lúcio doesn’t let Genji do very much anymore, not after he ruined the paella Lúcio was making by stirring it. The paella was fine, completely edible, but Lúcio mourned the loss of the crispy rice at the bottom of the pan for _weeks._

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what Genji serves, they’ll eat whatever he puts in front of them because they love him and they can’t bear to break his heart when he’s worked so hard. His food isn’t _completely_ inedible, it just leaves much, _much_ to be desired.

“So what do you think he’s making?” Baptiste asks.

“I’m sure he was breading diced chicken before, and there are noodles too. Something from home, I suppose.”

“That _should_ mean he knows it better than say, a gazpacho.”

“Theoretically.”

The telltale _bubble_ of something deep frying carries out of the kitchen, and Baptiste silently prays that if the chicken goes in there, that it’s cooked long enough. 

“I saw him in here with Hanzo the other day,” Lúcio says. “Was taking notes on his phone as Hanzo was cooking by the look of it”

“Have you tasted any of Hanzo’s food?”

“No.” Lúcio looks at Baptiste. “You?”

Baptiste shakes his head. “Hard when he keeps to himself. Also, doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would appreciate you hanging around him and tasting his food without permission.”

“He’s got that look about him.”

“Genji says he’s mellowed out since asking him to join, so I suppose there’s hope.”

Lúcio hums, sits up in his seat and jerks his head as Genji approaches with two plates in his hand. He’s got the biggest smile on his face, and Baptiste cannot help but smile back. Usually, he’s embarrassed when he knows he’s stuffed something up, but not this time. 

“For starters, we have karaage chicken with homemade mayonnaise, and for mains, soba with prawn and ginger.”

“This looks amazing Genji,” Lúcio says.

“Absolutely,” Baptiste adds. The chicken is perfectly golden, the soba makes his mouth water. He’s _eager_ to try them. 

Genji just shrugs as he sits. “Practice. And a guinea pig.” He looks between them. “I wanted to make sure this was perfect.”

“Thank you,” Lúcio says, reaching out and taking his hand. “That’s very thoughtful.”

“I know I’m not the greatest with food,” Genji says, “so think of this as my apology for all the shit I’ve served.” He picks up his sake cup, holding it out in toast. “Happy anniversary.”

Baptiste picks up his, clinking it against Genji’s, then Lúcio’s. “Happy anniversary.”

Genji takes a sip, then points to the dishes. “Please, eat! Tell me what you think.”

Using his fork, Baptiste picks up a piece of the chicken, dips it into the mayonnaise and takes a cautious bite. The chicken is cooked through, it’s bursting with flavour. “Genji, this is amazing.”

Lúcio pops one in his mouth, nods as he chews. “Delicious! Well done.”

Genji smiles. “Thank you,” he says meekly.

Baptise is about to dig into another when he smells smoke. “Hey, do you smell—”

The smoke alarm goes off and looking into the kitchen, one of the pans is smoking. 

“Oh shit, I left the burner on!” Genji rushes over and turns it off, then picks up a dish towel and fans the smoke away from the alarm. 

Baptise looks at Lúcio and smiles. “ _There’s_ our Genji.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie) and [PillowFort!](https://www.pillowfort.social/ChillieBean) Come say hi!


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